Corie: It’s a… dinner party at our place Saturday night.
My mouth falls open in shock. No, she did not just tease us like that.
Me: What? That’s all you’re going to give us?
Bellamy: What she said.
Rowan: Please see above.
Amanda: Tease!
Corie: Sorry, ladies. My husband and I were talking on the way home, and we want to tell everyone at the same time. So, not a gender reveal, but kind of a gender reveal.
Me: Lies! You said you would tell us.
Corie: Sorry, toots. Nothing fancy. No cake or balloons for the big reveal. We just want everyone we love there to hear it together. Well, outside of Knox’s parents, of course. We called them.
Rowan: Rude.
Corie: Love you, ladies. See you Saturday at 6:00. Don’t be late.
I’m smiling down at my phone. I’m so happy for my best friend. It feels like I’m the one getting to announce the gender of my pregnancy. I’m so invested in her happily ever after. They deserve this and so much more.
I hit her contact, and she answers with a laugh. “Love you, Sloane,” she says, and even without the laugh, I can hear how happy she is.
“You can tell me. I can keep it a secret,” I tell her.
“Nope. Knox and I want to tell everyone together.”
“Corrriieeee,” I whine, and she laughs harder.
“It’s just a few more days.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“You’ll be fine.” She giggles.
“I’m so happy for you, bestie. Truly. I love this for you. You’re gonna be a momma, Core.”
“I know,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Fine, I’ll give in to your demands,” I tease. “What can I do to help on Saturday?”
“Nothing. We have it all under control. I’m going to make pulled pork in the Crock-Pot, baked potatoes, and some other sides. All Crock-Pot stuff that doesn’t take much effort.”
“Fine, I’ll bring the dessert.”
“If you insist. Maybe some of the cookies that Knox said you made for the guys? He said they were delicious.”
I laugh. “Cam and I made cookies one afternoon. Well, Baker helped once he got home. Camden will be thrilled that we get to make another batch. He’s my little helper in the kitchen.”
“How’s that going?” Corie asks.
“He’s an angel,” I reply, knowing that’s not what she’s asking.
“And his daddy?” she prompts.
“He’s important.”
